Doctor Who the Song of Hearts
by The Wrath of the Ancients
Summary: AU Set after forest of the dead, the Doctor takes Donna to an elderly science fiction author who wrote about the TARDIS and time lords before the loss of someone he's only just met but knows is the most important woman in his life finally sets in. Ten/River.
1. Prologue

**The Song of hearts**

**Summary**: AU Set after forest of the dead, the Doctor takes Donna to an elderly science fiction author who wrote about TARDIS and time lords before the loss of someone he's only just meet but knows is the most important woman in his life finally sets in. Ten/River.

**Characters**: Doctor Who - 10th Doctor, Martha, Donna, Marnal, River Song, Proffessor Chronotis.

Borrows from EDA 73 The Gallifrey Chronicles but it shouldn't matter if you haven't read it

* * *

_Hello Sweetie,_

_You're young,_

_Spoilers,_

_One day I'm going to be someone you trust absolutely, but I can't wait for you to find that out and I'm really very sorry…_

_You wouldn't have a chance and neither would I,_

_You'll see me again,_

_You and me, time and space, you watch us run,_

All of River's words to him constantly played in his head along with her face, as he leant over the console he bit back tears, then with shaking hands he dematerialised the TARDIS he faintly heard Donna saying something in the background but that was blocked out by a pain in his chest.

"I'm surprised you never noticed a series of books that included a reference you should recognise, written by a guy named Marnal Gate," the Doctor shakily said already setting the co=ordinates for Marnal's house. "Strange fellow some mood swings,"

Donna was saying something again but the Doctor still could respond, his legs gave way, only his hands held him up and he whispered to the TARDIS in a last great effort,

"Get me there please old girl…" as the Doctor fell to the floor he shakily whispered out loud to no one in particular except to someone who couldn't hear him. "_I'm sorry River…" _with that consciousness left his body and he fell back onto the floor as the TARDIS sped at top speed to modern day Earth to meet the author to which the Doctor had refered.


	2. Chapter 1

**The Song of Hearts**

**Chapter 1**

Note: Contains material copied directly from The Gallifrey Chronicles, I hereby claim no ownership the Gallifrey chronicles as a work of fiction is owned by Lance Parkin and Doctor Who and the TARDIS are both trademark by the BBC

* * *

'No doctors!'

That made a few of the relatives on the edge of the group jump, then look back at each other self-consciously. One of the aunts turned away, opened the window a little. The old man on the bed glared at her as the cold air drifted in, but said nothing.

Rachel was sitting by the bedside. The relatives were little more than silhouettes. Black outlines of people. Men in suits, women in tailored jackets, small, restless children in their Sunday best. She couldn't see how many there were. Almost all of them, though. Crowding round.

Circling.

'This is such a lovely house,' another aunt said. She was standing at the window looking down over the lush, green garden.

'Surprisingly large,' an uncle agreed.

'Too dark,' a woman's voice said.

'Cluttered,' another chipped in, to a general murmur of agreement.

There was a touch like a butterfly's at Rachel's wrist.

She looked down at the old man. Rheumy eyes stared back, unblinking. It had worn him out just lifting his hand. He'd heard every word.

'Don't let them destroy the books,' he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. 'They're my life.'

There wasn't much of that life left now. He twisted a little on the bed, the pain in his back surging for a moment, coursing through him. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

Rachel hadn't known him that long, but in the last month he had clearly begun to fade. He was very old – how old the agency had never told her, but she'd always thought he was in his eighties – with thin white hair and thinner white skin. He had an aquiline nose and high forehead. He had beautiful blue eyes, even if they were a little watery today. He hadn't stood for a long time, he barely even sat up now. When she'd first given him a bed bath, she'd been struck that he was smaller and lighter than she had thought.

She'd seen his picture on the inside of one of the dust jackets once. Before, there had been so much dignity.

'A good innings,' one of the grandsons said softly.

'He was a friend of H.G. Wells,' another whispered to his wife. 'Wrote science fiction before it was even called that.'

'Do you have any of his books?'

'I have some of them, it doesn't mean I've read them,' the man replied, eliciting a guilty chuckle from a couple of the other relatives.

'Not all of the new ones were published,' the old man tried to explain.

'No,' the grandson said, sympathetically. 'But that didn't stop you writing, did it?'

'Pen,' the old man demanded.

Rachel passed him the blue biro and the notepad. A couple of the relatives glanced nervously at each other. There was still time, after all, for him to change his will.

Once again, he tried to draw it. He started with a circle. Then a sort of broken figure-of-eight inside the circle, one with little swirls at the side. It looked vaguely Celtic. He gave up trying to get it right, again. This was the furthest he'd got with the shape for about twenty pages. He was nearly through the notepad. He could fit two, three or four circles on each page.

He dropped the pen. Rachel caught it before it slipped off the bed, and tried to hand it back. The old man refused to take it, or couldn't summon the strength.

'No,' he said.

Rachel smiled. 'You said it was always quite difficult to draw,' she said gently.

'Two hundred feet in diameter,' he said, angry with himself. 'Machonite in laid in bone-white marble. A circle like that. . . should be. It filled the whole centre of the. . . the hall. The big hall. The one with hexagonal walls and statues the size of tower blocks. The. . . damn it! I want to get it right. When I close my eyes, I can see it all. But I can't even remember the name of the. . . I can't remember it. I was born there. Spent lifetimes there. It's _important_.'

The relatives were shifting their feet. Embarrassed by the outburst or worried that he had more life left in him than they'd thought.

The old man looked around, almost apologetic.

'I only wish I could remember the name,' he explained. 'I'm the only person on Earth who even remembers. Except. . . except I don't. You understand, don't you?'

Rachel made an attempt to look positive. But whenever he'd tried to explain this before, there had been just too much of it to get her head round. She thought he was sincere, that was the thing, but she didn't understand him.

'I believe you, Marnal,' she whispered. It was his pen name. Since the breakdown, he had insisted on being called that, although no one ever did.

He sighed, returned his head to the pillow. Screwed his eyes closed, wringing out a tear. Drew in a breath.

'Now I don't have the time. Lord, I wish I could remember the name.'

His head slipped back a little, his face relaxed.

Rachel watched him carefully for a minute, then held the back of her hand close to his nostrils, like she'd been taught. She placed a finger on the side of his neck and waited a whole minute. One of the relatives, a man in his thirties, looked at her, not daring to ask the question.

She nodded. 'He's gone.'

One by one, the relatives filed out. Most at least glanced back at him; one of his daughters made a show of kissing his cheek, inspiring his other daughter to do the same.

Then they had gone. Rachel imagined them all downstairs, perhaps taking a room each and sorting the contents into plunder and litter.

She turned back to Marnal. He looked even smaller and older than before. Peaceful, though. It felt like she should pray for him or something. Instead, she went over to the window and closed it. The garden was so colourful this time of year. A little overgrown, but with splashes of yellows, reds and purples among the dark green. Great trees. A couple of the younger children had already found their way outside, and were climbing them like nothing had happened.

'Life goes on,' she said.

At the moment a sound filled the empty room, a wheezing, groaning sound. The sound of time and space parting. But this time the wheezing and groaning were those of a dying man, the sound warped and painful, as if its source was being torturously dragged into a point it could not, would not, fit. The outer shell of the object, a blue box shimmered and twisted into being and smoke rose from all of the windows. As the door opened a man in a blue pinstripe suit stumbled out, looking deathly pale, before Rachel could stop him he whispered one word into Marnal's ear.

"Gallifrey."

At this something started to happen and Rachel noticed his eyes flickered, There was something happening, the old man's skin was glowing. Ever so faintly, at least at first, but too brightly to be any trick of the light. She didn't think that was normal. It was like an overexposed photo now, his eyebrows and the exact lines of his nose and mouth bleached out.

She stared at the old man's face, and when it stopped glowing it was a young man's face.

Brown eyes snapped open.

'Gallifrey,' the young man said. "Home..."


	3. Chapter 2

**The Song of Hearts**

**Chapter 2**

Note: Contains material copied directly from The Gallifrey Chronicles, I hereby claim no ownership the Gallifrey chronicles as a work of fiction is owned by Lance Parkin and Doctor Who and the TARDIS are both trademark by the BBC

* * *

'Gallifrey,' the young man said. "Home..."

As his eyes opened he saw the nurse, Rachel backed into the corner, her thoughts obvious to anyone who were to look upon her, he then looked down to the man with the blue suit, the _Time Lord, _he corrected himself. All Time Lords were taught at the academy that no matter where they were or what body they were wearing they'd know each other as a Time Lord on sight, however what was less well known was that a Time Lord President could be told by those at a glance, if you knew what to look for. If you were say a Castellan of the high council of the Time Lords who dealt with Presidents on a daily basis then you would know exactly what to look for, as those who were connected to the Matrix as a President, those who'd worn the sash of Rassilon were inlaid with biodata and temporal codes for the most powerful Time Lord devices. The young man, Marnal, for despite the change was still a Time Lord and still the same person got up from the bed and looked to the nurse, then to the blue box now standing in the corner of his room. It was obvious to any Time Lord what it was, a Type 40 Mark I TT capsule, first grown from the Black Hole shipyards, not just any TARDIS, his own TARDIS, grown Rassilon era dateline 2106.006 commissioned to the high council of the Time Lords and assigned to Castellan Marnal of the ancestral house of Lungbarrow. It had been repaired since he'd last seen it, but the chameleon circuit had clearly be fused, strange, Marnal thought, the perception filter may stop most people from noticing it, but if someone knew how to fight it they could notice the outer chronoplasmic shell, but not as strange as a President travelling in an unrepaired capsule.

Rachel was scared; the man had changed in front of her eyes and was now stroking the blue box that had appeared inside his room mumbling.

"Hello old girl,"

Rachel started to make for the door but was stopped by Marnal's steel glare, she looked at him and could see similarities with the old man who'd died in front of her, but this man was taller by an inch was a little scrawny with sharp features, aqua blue eyes and short black hair roughly parted from his right to left. As he came closer even in the pyjamas he seemed intimidating, his hands twitched at his sides and his arms began to raise, Rachel tried to run but her legs were frozen, as she turned back to him his fingers where grouped like the Vulcan greeting from Star Trek and was about to touch her face…

"Oi! Doctor!" Marnal suddenly pulled back when a red haired woman burst from the TARDIS door. She briefly took in her surroundings before noticing the Doctor slumped over the bed. She instantly turned to face Marnal. "What have done to him?"

Marnal visably flinches at her shout but quickly regains posture but the spell on Rachel is broken and she starts head to the door.

"I've done nothing to him, after all it wouldn't do to my prospects at retaking my position on the high council by harming their President. You, Rachel wasn't it, go and tell them downstairs that you made a mistake and I'm fine now and would like them all to leave now," Rachel seems to stop and nod before closing the door.

"What've you done to that girl," Donna roared at him with a finger raised.

"I just regenerated, you see I'm not human," Marnal started, to Donna he sounded condescending. "I'm a Gallifreyan life form, specifically a Time Lord of the Prydonian House of Lungbarrow, the same species as your comatose friend. He's the same species as me you see; Time Lords have the ability to regenerate our bodies if we are mortally injured."

Marnal looked incredibly smug as if his last sentence explained everything.

"What?!"

Obviously it hadn't, Marnal sighed and continued in his explanation. "You see when see thought I'd died and show my so-called _relatives _out of the room and you friend reminded me of my-, no our homeworld, then she saw my regeneration, she saw my entire body change, no wonder she's scared, sorry I've been quite rude," He raised his hand to Donna. "I'm Castellan Marnal, well former Castellan now, I assume I've long since been removed from office _in absentia, _I was hoping your friend here arrived to take me back but it seems to be something more along the lines of health issues, fortunately I'm an expert in Gallifreyan medicine."

"D-Donna," she responded shaking Marnal's hand, Donna had heard the Doctor talk of his people and knew they were all dead, if this Marnal was a Time Lord like the Doctor, she needed to avoid talking about the Time War the Doctor had spoken of.

Sometime later, Rachel had done what Marnal had asked: shooed the relatives away, explained that she'd made a mistake and that he'd got better, and that, no, they couldn't see him. It had taken over an hour to round them all up, convince them and herd them out to their Rovers, Audis and Lexuses. She'd gone back upstairs to find him emerging from the blue box with the red-haired girl sitting next to the sickly man in the suit, his breathing was haggard but he seemed to be better. Marnal was now wearing a ruffled shirt with a blue tie, blue trousers and a blue velvet jacket he tugged on the lapels before walking to Rachel.

"I'm sorry if I scared you earlier, but I am the same man you saw die on the bed, but I've been renewed, I regenerated, held back death. I'm fine now and I'd just like to thank you for your help during my last bodies final days, but this man here is dieing and unlike me what he's suffering from won't be cured by a regeneration, so will you help me save a life…" Marnal pleaded with her, his tone having changed completely now seemingly an irresistible plead for help…


End file.
